It was morning, and I had taken my father in law to the beach, one last time. I took the solid, cedar box to the balcony overlooking the sea. He had died nearly two years before, but our family was unable to return to Seattle for a memorial.

I took my father-in-law with me as I moved and traveled. He was always quiet, as usual. I teased him that perhaps he’d see some pretty girls on the beach, if only his view weren’t obscured by the box.

He enjoyed the sunrise more than me.

Never much of a morning person, so getting up early to show him the sunrise one last time was, I hoped, not lost on him, although he never really said anything about it. I felt the sunset would surely be even better, even if only one of us was actually awake.

Even big clouds didn’t elicit a response.

I was sure the evening sky would at least spark some conversation… but perhaps he was full from the dinner I had.

At last, the thunder!

At last the excitement arrived. A giant thunder cloud, poring down its feelings onto the ocean before us! The air was blanket heavy with moisture. I clapped when the thunder came, but alas, he did not.

By morning, steaming coffee in hand, I waved goodbye as he waited on the deck, and wandered out onto the rough shore, huge trees adorning it in grassy, wooden necklaces.

I felt a little guilt for leaving him for so long, and that, well, he couldn’t see what I was seeing anymore… or could he?

The brave roots of this enormous tree were so thrilled with their new view! Sky! Clouds! Each other! Roots cannot normally see each other, I am told.

Some trees snuck a rock or two in between themselves, just for kicks. I told him this when I returned some time later. He has not made any new coffee for me.

The glorious blue sky sang even louder than the surf, and my friend, you’ve never seen happier roots than I did that day.

Even the sideways wind got in on it, gurgling with the little tide, tiptoeing across the wood – here, on the beach, and back there, in the box, where my father-in-law waited, quiet, as usual.

My favorite: being with the little ones I like to call, “The Waiters.” Not like people who bring spaghetti to the table – no. I mean, the things that seem to make a living waiting. Yes. The rocks.

But before I could dwell too long on the various hums and sighs of the still-waiting stones and pebbles, the sun arrived – or rather, we here arrived to it.

Boulders are rocks, too, yes, but they don’t seem to wait. They are too busy ducking the waves. At least, that was what I told my father-in-law later.

And this is how we said goodbye, me from the shore, and he from inside the box.

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Contrary to popular myth, Seattle is stunning in the summer. Green, lush grass, amber sunsets, and funny little sculptures in public places make this a magical place to live or visit. I love my city so much.

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When my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s last week, I learned to lean in, turn toward her thoughts, and be like water. This I learned from the wind of a dusky summer night as I sped down the long Utah highway to be by her side. Fighting the wind is the surest path to tears.

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Looming SunsetThis evening brought a beautiful, dramatic storm which rocked my little cottage and brought a stunning sunset. Dark, heavy clouds were pierced by the most elegant, orange clouds over the sea, and seagulls seemed to be thrilled to play in the wild winds. All evening the wind has continued, and the untamed rains, and even a little snow. All this while I look out over the sea. I live in the tiniest little beach cottage, and when the wind blows hard, I wonder just how long before the floor gives way. My little street floods and the dog won’t even go out. I love my little seaside cottage, though it’s a temporary arrangement. A friend had this little cabin available just for a few months until tourist season, so I jumped on it. Every morning we walk on the shore, and once in awhile we get the treat of another wild storm on the sea. I just love it.

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This is what I come home to these days….

I caught this out of the corner of my eye – I’d never seen a shell penetrated by light. The little ripples where it was resting in the sand were just a little magical too.

I wanted to share this moment I found and photographed on the beach at my house, because when we talk about fine art, I remembered this: the finest art is sometimes happening right under our noses, in nature, every single day. The amazing backlight of sunset painted on the back of this shell – shining right through it – stopped me in my tracks. Beautiful nature of our extraordinary world gives to us the opportunity to see the true mastery of light if we only look.

I am back at my little sea cottage and arrived right at sunset to a beautiful orange and pink sky, with the ocean slipping away in the low tide just in front of my door. Now a storm is rolling in, and while I was tucked in with the dog, doing a little work, I heard just outside – what was that?? – an owl on my roof, just above me. Over and over, hoot-hoothoothoot-hooot..